s as proportionate to the texture of the object struck as
to its own momentum; and she had such a superlative capacity for being
wounded that little hits struck her hard.

It was not till the end of half an hour that two figures were seen above
the parapet of the dreary old pile, motionless as bitterns on a ruined
mosque. Even then Stephen was not true enough to perform what he was so
courteous to promise, and he vanished without making a sign.

He returned at midday. Elfride looked vexed when unconscious that his
eyes were upon her; when conscious, severe. However, her attitude of
coldness had long outlived the coldness itself, and she could no longer
utter feigned words of indifference.

'Ah, you weren't kind to keep me waiting in the cold, and break your
promise,' she said at last reproachfully, in tones too low for her
father's powers of hearing.

'Forgive, forgive me!' said Stephen with dismay. 'I had forgotten--quite
forgotten! Something prevented my remembering.'

'Any further explanation?' said Miss Capricious, pouting.

He was silent for a few minutes, and looked askance.

'None,' he said, with the accent of one who concealed a sin.

Chapter V

'Bosom'd high in tufted trees.'

It was breakfast time.

As seen from the vicarage dining-room, which took a warm tone of light
from the fire, the weather and scene outside seemed to have stereotyped
themselves in unrelieved shades of gray. The long-armed trees and shrubs
of juniper, cedar, and pine varieties, were grayish black; those of the
broad-leaved sort, together with the herbage, were grayish-green;
the eternal hills and tower behind them were grayish-brown; the sky,
dropping behind all, gray of the purest melancholy.

Yet in spite of this sombre artistic effect, the morning was not one
which tended to lower the spirits. It was even cheering. For it did not
rain, nor was rain likely to fall for many days to come.

Elfride had turned from the table towards the fire and was idly
elevating a hand-screen before her face, when she heard the click of a
little gate outside.

'Ah, here's the postman!' she said, as a shuffling, active man came
through an opening in the shrubbery and across the lawn. She vanished,
and met him in the porch, afterwards coming in with her hands behind her
back.

'How many are there? Three for papa, one for Mr. Smith, none for Miss
Swancourt. And, papa, look here, one of yours is from--whom do you
think?--Lord L